The Knock-Out
by Llmav
Summary: In which Ross has an archenemy and Laura is hot.


**A/N; This is for rJ and Laura and myself and anyone else who is screwed up enough to want to see Ross in a fistfight.**

**Any similarities to any real celebrities are completely deliberate and not at all coincidental.**

**It was weird to write Raura again. I haven't done it since I finished the Reunion. And it was even weirder writing about another celebrity, I have never done that before.**

**I'm not trying to offend anyone, this is stupid and silly and dumb and a _joke_ and the story is clearly over-exaggerated. If you happen to care for the celebrity portrayed in here, please try to have a sense of humor.**

**Im well aware that this is not realistic, and I'm pretty sure that some of this doesn't even makes sense, but there is some smut in here, so if that's your thing I think it might be worth reading anyways.**

**Maybe**.

They were all over at his house, the four of them, their families and the crew, coming together for a belated celebration of the season 4 renewal, a few months late as they had all been incredibly busy.

As the chit-chatter of all of them catching up was filling the large room, he looked around and realized just how much he had missed them.

All of them.

But some more than others.

They had gotten about half-way through the tasty lunch when her mother loudly and proudly announced that Laura had been approached for a music video.

A _big_ one.

And she was the love interest.

His initial reaction was a sense of pride, followed by almost giddy excitement.

She deserved a video, along with all other good things in the world and the whole freaking galaxy.

She was the best; talented, sweet and too hot for him to handle.

He couldn't think of anyone who deserved good things more than her.

Rainbows, glitter, a unicorn that breaths fire.

You name it, she deserved it.

"So, who is it with?" It wasn't his intent to sound so defensive, but he was.

She was quiet for a second, and at first he thought it was for dramatic effect, but he soon realized that it was because she was nervous to tell him.

And then she spoke.

He almost physically felt his mouth drop open as she shyly revealed who she was in fact recording the video with.

No.

No no no no no.

That must be _wrong_. There was no _way_ he had heard her correctly.

"Who?" Even _he_ could tell that he sounded a bit upset. Just a bit.

She repeated the name and he realized that he hadn't been wrong.

The girls around the table cheered, the guys remaining fairly calm but politely congratulating her again. _His_ mom was hugging her and smiling, _her_ mother was still beaming with pride, and everyone else was smiling at the oh so good news.

And then there was _him_, breathing hard yet somehow almost not breathing at all.

She was going to film a music video with _him_? That..._thing_?

That egg-throwing, law-breaking, drunk-driving, wannabe-thug that he couldn't stand?

No.

No no no no no.

They had run into each other occasionally, sharing nothing more than impersonal greetings, and although the guy hadn't necessarily done anything to him _personally_, he tried to avoid the jackass as much as humanly possible. Only problem was, he would have to be not only blind and deaf but on top of that, a freaking hermit, to be able to entirely do so. Any talent that the guy might have had was greatly overshadowed by his numerous and never-ending scandals, the ridiculous shirtless pictures splattered on the front pages of various magazines more frequently than his own little brother misspelled his tweets, and more often than not they were accompanied with tasteless stories about hooking up with girls, celebrities and prostitutes alike.

The guy was a first class _douchebag_.

His initials might as well stand for Just Bullshit.

She looked at him, and only at him, doe eyes and all, as if she could tell that he was fuming on the inside and perhaps also as if she needed his approval.

Which he knew she didn't.

He forced a smile, walking over to her and giving her a hug.

"That's amazing, Laura."

"You really think so, Ross?"

_Fuck_ no.

She should _know_ that he didn't think so. It wasn't exactly a secret that he despised the guy.

But he had no right to tell her so. They were just freaking _friends_, and even if they _had_ been something more, she couldn't pass up an opportunity like that.

He _knew_ that. He _understood_ that.

It's just that it would have been so much easier to _understand_ had it not been that her latest collaborator was his archenemy, the freaking Green Goblin to his Spider-Man.

At least in _his_ mind.

He wanted to be happy for her, he _really_ did, but he couldn't help but feel as if his Mary-Jane was about to be rudely swept away from him against his will.

Her eyes were serious, nervous, seeking confirmation that he knew he had to give her although her really didn't want to, but he couldn't be that selfish, even if he did have that uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach, that feeling that some people might label a bad gut one.

He looked at her and forced another smile, yet only managing to nod as he didn't trust his voice to lie to her, and he swallowed hard as she hugged him a little too tight.

...

The venue was packed, anticipation for the soon-to-begin award show vibrating through the air along with countless camera flashes and numerous loud conversations.

As the four of them made their way through the red carpet, posing for pictures and answering questions from various reporters, he couldn't help but to feel excited.

For once, they were all attending something together, just _them_, and he was secretly a little, or perhaps a lot, overjoyed about not having his family tag along like they usually did, giving him a chance to actually hang out with his two best friends in addition to the girl that he was not so secretly in love with. Even if he was to much of a wimp to admit it or, an even crazier thought, do anything about it.

He knew he probably looked happier than he had in months simply because he was.

It was a big night for all of them, but particularly for Laura. Not only were they and the show nominated for an award, but the music video she had recorded a couple of months prior was set to premiere during the televised broadcast.

They posed for some more pictures and he made sure to stand next to her, because something about them almost breathing the same air made him happy, and he knew, just knew, that the pictures would be spreading all over the internet like pesky lice in a pre-school class before the event was even over, but he really didn't mind as he also knew that they looked great together.

Perfect, even.

He watched her being interviewed, laughing and being her adorkable self, and he couldn't tear his eyes away. As per usual. He pretty much stared at her whenever he got the chance. Other people had stopped calling him out on it long ago, as it had absolutely no effect whatsoever.

He couldn't stop even if he wanted to.

She was so pretty, but that really wasn't the whole story. She had that _something_, that amazing but rare combination of being sweet but also hot as hell, somehow managing to look innocent while showcasing her innate sexiness, and it was even more enticing to him as he knew she wasn't even trying.

She was dressed for the occasion in a short top, leaving her waist bare, and some fancy looking skirt that he didn't really care about, not because it wasn't nice, but because as all he really wanted to know was what was underneath.

And oh, that waist.

He kind of wanted to lick the bare skin of it, although for some reason, unknown even to himself, he was scared to even touch it with his _hands_.

She was wearing heels that he had know freaking idea how she could possibly walk in, making her legs look like yards of tanned, endless highways, clearly leading up to her heaven.

He wanted to let his fingers drive on those highways and into her heaven. Over and over.

They entered the venue and took their seats, and he knew he was probably beaming as he saw that they were seated next to each other.

The show was entertaining but there was nothing he enjoyed more than the company.

They accepted the award for best cast, all four of them hugging each other on stage as they received the trophy.

So far, it had been a good night.

A voice coming from the stage was about to change that.

A voice that made his skin crawl.

Shit. He hadn't known that the buttface was actually going to _be_ there.

He was only half-listening as the prick introduced the video. What was he even taking about? It sounded like blahablaha, but he really couldn't comprehend it as he didn't speak Assholish.

At least he was wearing a shirt today, so that had to count as something positive.

The applause of the audience snapped him out of his thoughts, and he observed the large nearby screen come to life as the first few tones of the song filled the air.

And then it began.

The camera scanned the scenery momentarily before closing in on her.

She was a fucking _knock_-_out_. Not that he hadn't known that before, but he swallowed hard as he realized that soon the rest of the world would know that as well.

He wasn't exactly sure how he felt about that.

She was in some ridiculously short jean shorts, along with a black bikini top, leaving her waist bare yet again, and he felt misplaced jealousy surge through him, soon combined with excitement for her, followed by excitement _for_ her. She was hot as fuck, looking like every man's sexual fantasy, and he was willing to bet he wasn't the only one responding accordingly.

She was killing him slowly, and yet, funny enough, she made certain parts of him cum alive.

She observed him as his eyes were glued to the large screen, an unreadable expression on his face as he watched her body sway to the too catchy music.

He was casually dressed, in a semi-tight white tee and his by now signature worn-in jeans, simple, yet somehow managing to look like sexual perfection. She was saying a quiet thank you to whomever had finally got him to cut his hair, once again making him look like a wet dream rather than some washed-up glam rocker from the late 80s.

It kind of angered her how much she cared about his opinion. She could care less about what her other friends thought about it, but her heart was beating faster waiting for his reaction.

Why? Why why why? Her life would be so much easier if she just didn't care about him.

But to her own dismay, she did.

A lot.

He had to admit that the video was good. There wasn't any kissing, thank God, and he was incredibly grateful that there weren't any bedroom scenes as the plot was set by a pool and on the beach.

He realized that he was almost holding his breath when Just Bullshit approached her on the screen, soon dancing with her, touching her, clearly he was not afraid of touching the waist, almost kissing her, his nose rubbing up against hers.

It's just acting. _Just_ acting. Just _acting_.

Funny thing, he knew exactly what it was like to pretend to just _act_ in love with her, although he was a hundred percent sure that he wasn't always just acting.

He knew he really wasn't _that_ good of an actor.

She could see him clench his teeth when the more intimate scenes played out and she clinched inwardly as she knew she wouldn't be entirely happy either, had it been the other way around.

And then it was over.

He turned to her and smiled, a genuine smile before he leaned in to whisper something in her ear.

She looked excited but also a bit nervous, as if the only thing she cared about was what he would say.

His breath tickled her neck, creating goosebumps everywhere and she kind of, perhaps, maybe loved it.

"You're perfect...I mean, _it's_ perfect."

She looked at him again, as if trying to figure out if he was lying, and smiled when she realized he wasn't, her eyes lingering in his and for a few seconds they forgot where they were at as a bubble of unidentified emotions engulfed them, closing them off from the rest of the world for a few, blissful seconds.

And then the douche called her up onstage.

She looked surprised, and uncomfortable, but she was too sweet, polite and professional to not comply.

"Please welcome one of the absolute _sexiest_ girls that I've ever had the pleasure of working with."

His ears were ringing.

The imbecile was calling her sexy.

Well, she was.

At least he couldn't accuse him of being a liar.

He could tell that she was clearly out of her comfort zone as she approached the center of the stage, but that apparently didn't stop the crowd from going wild, erupting in cheers and whistles as fuckface wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

He almost followed her up there.

His hands turned to fists as he heard people around him commenting on how good they looked together.

People actually thought _they_ would make a cute couple?

Gross. Repulsive, even. But then again, there were people out there who thought him and his actual, biological _sister_ would make a good couple, so he guessed he shouldn't be all that surprised.

Disturbed, absolutely, but not surprised.

She returned to her seat after what felt like forever, and she grabbed his hand, squeezing it, as if she knew he that needed some sort of reassurance, and to his own surprise he felt his anger slowly evaporate.

She grabbed his hand because she kind of had to _feel_ him.

He smiled at her again, even though she could tell that his mood had soured substantially.

He tried to ignore his own bad mood.

The event was almost over.

Hopefully they wouldn't see too much more of _him_.

...

"Would you like something to drink?"

"Sure, whatever you're having. Thank you."

They were backstage at the after party that she had reluctantly agreed to stick around for.

He had convinced her for the sole purpose of wanting to spend more time with her.

Raini and Calum had left, and although he really, truly had enjoyed their company, he was beyond pleased that he would have her to himself for the rest of the night.

He went to get them something to drink, and when he returned she was not alone.

Of course.

Fuck.

Apparently the moron had just gotten there, as she was currently greeting him with a soft hug.

"What are you doing here all by yourself?"

His over protectiveness kicked in as he approached them. "She's here with me."

What? It was true. It may not be a _formal_ date, but to his credit, they had arrived together.

"Then maybe you shouldn't leave her alone." Asshole smirk.

"Well, maybe you _should_."

The smirk turned into a sly smile. Creepy.

"I'm pretty sure she can take care of herself, and I'm pretty sure that last time we spoke, Laura here was _single_. Unless something has changed?" The creep was looking at her.

None of them answered. Because sadly, nothing _had_ changed.

She _was_ still single. At least officially.

The buttface smirked again, as if he knew that he had touched upon a sour topic.

"Laur, come on, let me introduce you to a couple of people" as he tugged on her arm.

Laur. Fuck. That was _his_ nickname for her.

"I'll be right back, Ross", her voice weak as shot him an apologetic glance while slowly walking away.

He tried to mingle, tried to not let the fact that he was consistently touching her across the room bother him, at least trying to ignore them until he saw that they were alone, her standing close to a wall and the idiot almost caging her in, her looking uncomfortable and unsure of what to do as the fucker was clearly too close for comfort, and he no longer cared if he made a fool out of himself as he walked towards them.

That was _it_.

"Laura, I think your sister has been trying to get a hold of you, she just sent me a message. Maybe you should give her a call?"

She nodded. "I was just heading to the restroom anyways."

She excused herself, grateful that he had somehow heard her quiet plea for help.

And then there was the two of them.

He said something trivial, he couldn't really even recall what as he was trying to be polite despite his blood boiling, because he knew he needed to be, while silently wondering how the night had turned from a dream into a fucking nightmare.

The butthead just nodded nonchalantly.

She had just reentered the area, turning the corner looking like Venus herself, when the fuckface hissed something in his ear.

_"She's the best fuck I've ever had."_

He wasn't seeing black, but rather red, fittingly so as all he wanted to do was make the asshole bleed.

So he did.

The first punch was a bit disorganized, almost as if his body was still questioning his mind's decision. He had aimed for the nose but hit him on the cheek, the impact not as strong as had intended, but still enough to knock his impromptu opponent slightly off balance.

Wow. That felt _good_. So so so _good_.

The schmuck recovered quicker than he had anticipated, and the return punch hit him smack in the nose, but the adrenaline running through his body apparently kept him from feeling any real pain and he was still on his feet.

His move.

The second punch was better aimed and more powerful, and he could almost feel the dimwit's nose bone break against his hand as the blood spluttered across his ugly face, but he didn't have much time to process it as he knew that the to-be-expected return was only seconds away.

He moved, trying to avoid the punch but wasn't entirely successful in doing so as he felt the pain from the now stomach punch quickly shoot throughout his body, almost knocking the air out of him.

Fuck. That hurt.

The third punch hit the side of the dork's head, not very hard but finally making the loser lose his balance as he dropped to the floor.

Knock out.

He looked around, coming out of his anger-induced state of oblivion, and realized that although they fight had felt like an eternity, not much more than a minute could have passed.

He located her by the nearby wall, quietly sobbing as he quickly approached her, lifting her up as if she was weightless, people staring in shock but luckily without cameras, at least from what he could see.

She protested as he began walking away, wiggling like a defiant worm, and despite his anger he almost laughed at her thinking she was stronger than him. He continued to walk with no specific destination in mind, his mind racing, before he settled on some backstage dressing room that had luckily been left unlocked. He stepped in, securely locking the door behind them.

He didn't want anyone to come there and ask him questions.

Then he finally put her down.

They were both fuming.

_**"What the fuck was that?"**_

He was pretty sure he had never seen her more mad.

She was so mad.

So so so so mad.

And turned on.

Furious.

But fucking wet.

She would be lying if she said that she didn't kind of enjoyed seeing him angry, it was so damn masculine, so weird but so _hot_.

She was more than _able_ to take care of herself but fuck did she want _him_ to take _care_ of her. In all ways possible.

He was still to angry to speak.

There was a small stream of blood trickling down from one of his nostrils, creating a small red river on his white shirt. He seemed to furious to notice, as he was pacing the room, clearly trying to make himself calm down but not very successfully so.

She walked up to him. Seeing him hurt made her feel feelings.

"Ross..."

He stopped as he heard her voice, just looking at her with emotionally confused eyes.

She stroke his cheek and he flinched upon the contact.

"I'm sorry, it's just...you're bleeding."

He felt bad as she had misinterpreted his reaction as one if being uncomfortable, when in reality, it was simply one of surprise. In all honesty, he couldn't think of anything better than the feel of her skin on his.

The fucker had made him bleed.

"Here, let me clean it up."

She walked into the adjacent bathroom, soon returning with a wet paper towel in hand, making him sit down on the couch as she slowly and carefully began cleaning off his face and he was almost sure that he was going to pass out because she was so damn close to him.

"You look like a hot mess". She still sounded mad but also a bit amused.

"You should see the other guy" and he shot her a half-smile.

She actually laughed and he suddenly heard birds singing and saw sunshine shining and smelled good-smelling flowers.

Life was automatically a bit better when she was laughing.

"Ross, what was that?"

He didn't want to tell her.

He shook his head.

"Ross!"

"He...he said that he...that the two of you...had been..._together_."

She gasped as she got it. "That's not true! That bastard, I..."

He calmed her down. "I know. I _know_ it's not true. But just the thought...of him, that _thing_, touching you, his hands on you, I'm sorry but it drives me fucking _insane_."

He was furious again.

She screamed in surprise when he rose and punched the nearby wall, but in difference from the human punching bag he had used a few minutes prior, the wall didn't budge.

And he was wincing in pain.

Idiot.

She stood up as well.

"Let me see your hand. Does it hurt?"

He nodded and she grabbed it, caressing it, skin-to-skin massaging it, until his anger was at a still high but more manageable level.

"You shouldn't have done that."

He knew she was right but he didn't care. "Nobody speaks like that about you. _Nobody_, you fucking hear me?"

Now _she_ was the on who winced. It wasn't like she hadn't heard him curse before, but he had never cursed at _her_ before.

He registered her reaction and felt bad. "I'm sorry, it's just, I know you're not mine, but...you're _mine_, you know?"

She nodded. Because she _did_. And she _was_.

Even though this was the closest they had ever come to admitting that.

"I mean it. Seriously. I can't even...it physically _hurts_ me to think of anyone else touching you."

Anger rising again.

THAT FUCKING PRICK.

He had to restrain himself from punching something else.

She looked at him again, the anger now replaced by something else.

Want.

She _wanted_ him.

"How about _you_ touching me, Ross? How...how does that make you feel?"

He groaned out loud despite trying to control himself, because touching her was pretty much all he had thought about for the past freaking three years.

Every fucking day.

And night.

She was looking at him, so close, her lips right there, all he had to do was lean down...

...and then he did.

He kissed her roughly as he was still angry, still trying to control himself but fuck it was so hard.

And so was he.

She didn't respond at first, and he almost passed out again. If she rejected him, fuck...it had taken him so damn long, too damn long, to make a move...

She didn't respond at first from the pure shock of finally feeling his mouth on hers, his tongue against hers and it took her a second to respond.

Well, a second for her _mind_ to respond.

Some parts of her body had responded immediately.

And then she kissed him back, one hand soon intertwined in his blond hair, the other one pulling on his blood-stained shirt, removing it almost immediately and allowing her to run her fingers over his back.

He backed her up against the door, her back soon pressing into it as he continued to kiss her. Over and over.

His hips were pressing into hers as their tongues interacted, swaying together in a dance very similar to the one they had watched on the large screen mere hours ago, his hands on her fucking waist and it felt as good and a million times better than he had known it would.

He knew this wasn't exactly the right place, but he couldn't stop.

He had been waiting for this for fucking _years_.

He reached under her skirt while breaking the kiss, looking at her with glossy yet questioning eyes. She moaned something incoherent in response, and he accurately interpreted it as a confirmative response to continue.

No going back.

He pulled down her underwear but leaving the skirt on, his fingers finding her soaked pussy as she was reaching for the button of his jeans, soon freeing him from his pants-prison before he lifted her up, her legs wrapping around him as he swiftly thrusted himself into her, the skirt bundled up around her waist, her back bouncing back against the wood as he set a pace that made him want to cum on the spot.

Sweet hell.

It wasn't make up sex, because they were both still mad, but it was angry sex, urgent sex, I need you know sex, I kind of love you sex, all wrapped into one hot mess of grunts and moans.

He soon surprised her by carrying her over to the couch, gently putting her down on top of it and himself on too of her, his forehead on hers as he reentered her, restrained and slowly and she whimpered when he pushed himself all the way back into her, his dick hard but his eyes soft when they bore into hers as he started to slowly move his dick in and out of her wetness, the weight of his body pressing hers deep into the couch cushion.

His groans was turning her on beyond belief, the husky noises ringing in her ear like the best music she had heard all night, and she knew that she was going to cum within minutes.

His dick was nothing short of fucking bliss.

She was scratching his back, leaving even more marks on his body, but he couldn't care less as he felt her cum undone, her pussy hugging him in spasms that made him lose control, making him lose his mind, making him roughly shoot her full with a few uncoordinated but heavenly thrusts.

They spent the next few minutes slouched down on the couch, side by side, still breathing hard, trying to process the all but dull events of the night.

She turned to look at him as they both began to re-dress.

"I can't believe..we did that...here." She looked ashamed but sounded anything but.

He reached over and hugged her. Close.

"It was bound to happen."

She shrugged as if agreeing with him, and then he kissed her again because he had to.

And then he kissed her _again_ before they exited the dressing room, hand in hand, both of them smiling despite knowing that there was going to be A few days of damage control ahead.

But they didn't care.

They had come there as _friends_, but they were undoubtedly leaving as something more.

Finally.


End file.
